Monday, April 20, 2009

So because today is rainy and disgusting and kind of cold, and because I have a slight hangover, and because why the fuck not, I'm feeling a little sorry for myself today.

Good lord, there's little I hate more than self-pity. But there you have it, anyway. I guess my current prevailing emotion (like you care...oooh, look! There it is...nice fresh self-pity...) is "put-upon-ness."

So I don't suppose there's any specific cause for this feeling, more like a lot of things, but the one thing I keep coming back to is this: the world would be a much better place (well, scratch that. I'm talking about MY world and I know it. So I'll rephrase. My world would be a much better place) if people thought about the things they say and do, and whether or not those things they say and do will hurt anyone else (namely, me).

I once had an ex who told me that his friend was the hottest girl he knew in person (the friend was not me). Now, granted, we weren't dating at the time, but we were certainly fooling around. And while I do strive to be the funniest person in the lives of everyone I know, I know way better than to presume I'd be the best looking person in anyone's life. I'm realistic about this. But it smarts a little harder when it comes from the mouth of someone you're currently doing it with. This dude wasn't a bad guy, so I assume he didn't think this would wound as badly as it did when he said it. If he had just thought, "hmmm, I wonder how M would receive this piece of information," I doubt I would have had to hear it.

Just think, people.

Because I don't often feel it, I forget that pain of the non-physical variety blows.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

I think that I would have totally been hot for the Roman god Bacchus (or the Greek god Dionysus, whichever you prefer). He's the god of wine, was all sorts of crazily sexually adventurous, and was certifiably insane. Oh, and he was a cross-dresser. Loved a party, that guy. I'm sure I would have been all about it. I'm also sure he lived in his own head most of the time, as I have a tendency to do.

One of my favorite things in my mom's house (my house, growing up) was a ceramic mask of Bacchus (I wanted to attach a photo but I don't have one of her actual mask, and the ones online don't do it justice) that she bought in Venice when we were really little. For most of my life, it has hung on her dining room wall. My sister recently told me that she was scared of it. She told me this when she called me to tell me how my mom's (recent) move (from the house we grew up in, to an apartment) went.

Her: You remember that mask?Me: What?Her: You know. I was sceer [read: "scared." Long story] of it?Me: Oh, yeah. Bacchus. I loved that thing.Her: You did? 'Memba when [name deleted] cut himself on one of it's vines and had to get stitches?Me: Yes.Her: It broke.

I may be overreacting (it happens), but I could not believe the nonchalance with which she was telling me this information.

When I called my mom later, I said, kind of in a weird frenzy "Bacchus head broke!???!"

She laughed and said "yeah, he was the only casualty of the move. It's just as well, you guys [read: my sister and I] would have fought over it when I died, anyway" (This is not a weird thing to say, in my family. We're used to such comments).

"No, we wouldn't have. She wouldn't have wanted it. She didn't even like it. She was scared of it."

My mom paid this very little attention, as she probably should have. Oddly, I'm not entirely over it. I loved that fucking thing.

I'm sad I can't find a photo. You know who I mean...the dude with the grapes at the side of his head.

Anyway...I've recently been thinking that I wouldn't have been good with Bacchus anyway. He and I would have been cool to run around and get crazy and get into intense arguments and have lots of fun, but eventually, I bet I would have just wanted to sit on a bench and quietly hold Apollo's hand, or something.

UPDATE: I just found out that Bacchus was to have risen from the dead on March 25th, which is my bday. I would have taken that as a big sign.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

I've had a few people recently ask me what Not x365 is. I'm not sure why people have been asking as of late...I've been doing it for months. Maybe more people read the blog, now?

Word.

Anyway, Not x365 is my version of The x365 project. It was started in 2006 by a dude named Dan Waber, the basic premise being that he would write about one person a day for 365 days in 40 words (because he was 40 years old at the time of the project). My friend Uncouth Heathen is the first person I saw do it, and I keep trolling her list to see if she's got me in there yet (she doesn't).

I, like many, was attracted to this idea, but I didn't like that I had to use a certain amount of words or that I had to do it every day. I also didn't like to use people's names. So I do the NOT x365 project, writing about whomever I want, whenever I want, in however many words I want. I never use people's names , but sometimes it's obvious.

I'll do one now...I haven't done one in a while. Heregoes:

#14: You're a hilarious friend of my sister's; you've become one of my friends as well. For some reason, I know the most embarrassing childhood story about you (it involves potato chips and underwear), but my favorite story is when I caught you wearing my skirt (that clearly my sister had lent you) walking down the main street of the town we grew up in, and when you saw me, you tried to hide. As if. Your wedding rocked! One of the best in recent memory, hands down.